


What if love, like justice, is just a lie people tell each other?

by polche



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Unresolved Emotional Tension, explicit lack of romantic confessions, goroboy is a big edgelord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 19:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17772557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polche/pseuds/polche
Summary: Goro stared into his coffee, small bubbles swirling in the even beige liquid, following his spoon as he pushed it around and around. He’d been staring for a while, assuring Sakura-san he was just letting it cool off so he didn’t burn his tongue, but he couldn’t be sure how long ago that was now. He raised the cup to his lips just as the door opened with a cheerful chime.“Honey, I’m home!”The milk in his coffee curdled on his tongue as the second most aggravating person in the world disrupted the cafe’s serenity. Goro turned and smiled, transforming his frustration into pep.“Don’t you have a girlfriend to use a line like that on?”





	What if love, like justice, is just a lie people tell each other?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a single burst of writing frenzy. Still don't know how I managed that. I don't have a beta, so, sorry if it lacks polish!

There was something timeless and detached about the atmosphere in Leblanc. Goro had never seen more than two guests at once inside - not counting the Phantom Thieves of course - and a gentle jazz tune over a near-silent tv channel filled the resulting quiet. The mixing scents of curry spices and coffee grounds gave the air a surreal smell that isolated the cafe from the world outside, especially on a day like this, when the sound of the rain blocked out the world on the other side of the door. He knew no place could be sanctuary for someone like him, but still. It was weird to think he might actually miss the place, once… Well.

He stared into his coffee, small bubbles swirling in the even beige liquid, following his spoon as he pushed it around and around. He’d been staring for a while, assuring Sakura-san he was just letting it cool off so he didn’t burn his tongue, but he couldn’t be sure how long ago that was now. He raised the cup to his lips just as the door opened with a cheerful chime.

“Honey, I’m home!”

The milk in his coffee curdled on his tongue as the second most aggravating person in the world disrupted the cafe’s serenity. Goro turned and smiled, transforming his frustration into pep.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend to use a line like that on?”

Amamiya smiled from the doorway as he shook out his umbrella. The cuffs of his trousers and, somehow his hair, had nevertheless gotten wet. The change in atmosphere had fogged up his glasses, but he managed to make it look mysterious rather than dorky, and Goro felt like he was going to be sick.

“Nope,” he lilted, earning a low grunt from Sakura-san.

“A boyfriend, then?” Someone, _anyone_ other than Goro, who couldn’t stand the acid building in his throat every time Amamiya said something that could so easily be misconstrued, who couldn’t afford the distraction, or how that demon had slowly redefined which way he wanted to take him out.

Amamiya chuckled as he took off his glasses to wipe them on his shirt. The feline smile stayed glued onto his face, but his unruly mop of hair covered his eyes, making it impossible to discern his real expression.

“Is it really easier to believe I have a _boy_ friend than that I’m single?”

Talking to Amamiya, especially with that infuriating smile on his face, felt like playing a game Goro was never told the rules of. When they’d met at the TV station, he’d thought outwitting the Phantom Thieves was like playing checkers. As he got to know Amamiya better, he found it more akin to playing chess. Compared to Amamiya, a talk show host was barely playing tic-tac-toe. He drained his coffee to give him that little longer to think.

“Why not? You must have admirers,” he deflected.

He always deflected. To do otherwise simply wasn’t an option. Even if it was just simple teenage hormones, activated by the slightest hint of attention; even if the rush of heat under his skin wasn’t directed at the one person who could destroy him and everything he worked for all these years; even if he wasn’t far too busy leading a double - triple - life with all its extracurricular activities to even think about indulging in a stupid, insignificant crush. Even if all of those things, it still wouldn’t be safe. To admit to any feeling was a weakness to be exploited.

Amamiya looked up from cleaning his glasses, his slate gray eyes dangerously wide. “I’m a dangerous criminal, Akechi-kun. Do you really think I’m _that_ attractive?”

So he made it seem impersonal. That it wasn’t Goro desperately wishing to trade places with one of the raindrops making its way down the planes of Amamiya’s face, past his jaw, following the line of his throat and down into his turtleneck. That it wasn’t Goro whose heart beat a little faster whenever Amamiya said something outrageous in that low, flat tone of his. That it wasn’t Goro who suddenly understood why murderers get fan mail.

“They do say something about the forbidden fruit tasting the sweetest, don’t they?” Goro wouldn’t let anyone throw him off his game, not even Amamiya. In a battle to see whose facade would hold up the longest, Goro wouldn’t lose to anyone. “And you said you were framed, anyway.”

Even if whatever assault may have happened hadn’t been grossly exaggerated, Goro was certain Amamiya had acted out of a sense of justice. It was clear in his eyes, in the curve of his spine and the set of his jaw, in the fist shaking in his pocket when he'd mentioned it. Amamiya’s danger didn’t lie in violence.

“You have a point there,” Amamiya mumbled thoughtfully. He put his glasses back on his face and rubbed the back of his neck, his long fingers disappearing entirely within the mass of dark curls. His concession didn’t feel like a victory at all.

Sakura-san ordered Amamiya to watch the cafe for him while he ran some errands before Goro’s thoughts caught up with him enough to order another coffee. He debated leaving, but found himself still staring at his empty coffee cup even after he decided that the caffeine wasn’t worth having to deal with Amamiya.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lost in thought, but it was long enough for Amamiya to put on his apron and slink behind the counter, customer service smile on his face. Goro didn’t know why he bothered with it: he was the only customer.

“Can I get you a refill? My stuff might not be Boss quality, but it’s better than waiting for it to fill up by itself.”

It took significant effort to resist the urge to jump up, wrap his hands around Amamiya’s pale throat and squeeze until his voice was entirely wrung out of existence, and he’d be left mercifully silent.

“Please, I’d love that.”

It wouldn’t work, anyway. Amamiya’s danger didn’t lie in his words, either. He was the danger. Scrutinizing eyes, a smile that left you wondering what he knew, and the ability to go from meek and invisible to confident and impossible to ignore. There was no way for Goro to know whether those were qualities he’d possessed before he awakened to his Persona, but they were engraved into his being now.

He never felt so close to having his mask torn from his face, leaving the ugly truth about him bare and exposed for the world to see, as he did days like this, when Amamiya caught him at Leblanc. Close enough that he could feel the danger’s breath on his skin, its fingers hovering just over body hair raised up by gooseflesh. He was left immobile by conflicting impulses to run away and lean in. That was the danger, too.

Of course Amamiya’s coffee was amazing. Goro could never tell if Amamiya faked his humility or his confidence or both. All options were equally annoying, but he’d die happy if Amamiya’s coffee were the last thing on his tongue. So long as… Well.

“I think you might be able to give Sakura-san a run for his money, actually.”

“You flatter me, Akechi-kun.” Amamiya fanned himself, and when he fluttered his lashes, Goro’s heart followed. “Not for a few years, at least.”

Amamiya was infuriating. Goro looked into his coffee cup to stop himself from having any more unwanted reactions. Utterly infuriating.

“You really should find yourself a boyfriend if you’re going to be like that,” Goro said with a chuckle he rehearsed for tv, instead of throttling Amamiya.

“Oh, it’s definitely a boy now?” Amamiya might have tried to go for innocent confusion with his tone, but it came out as a preying kind of amusement.

“You’re flirting with me, aren’t you?”

“I flirt with all my friends.”

Goro’s heart stopped. His mind stopped too. “Seriously?” He knew he was a more convincing actor than many film stars, but he couldn’t comprehend that Amamiya could truly consider him a friend.

Amamiya hummed. “You should hear the things I say to Ryuji when we work out, and I think Yusuke still has a sketchbook of doodles of me half-naked, for ‘inspiration.’” Then he chuckled. “And of course, I sleep with Morgana every night.”

Goro’s heart started beating again. A joke. Amamiya was just messing with him. This was something he could understand. Something with which he could play along.

“You’re only mentioning your male friends; is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“As expected of the Detective Prince! Nothing slips by you, does it?”

Goro swallowed the bile climbing up his throat and laughed like he was on tv, Amamiya’s single presence more probing and intrusive than half a dozen cameras and an audience. Amamiya’s praise for something he’d spend so much effort, so much planning on left him feeling both hot and cold at the same time. He was proud of himself for what he’d accomplished, disgusted that his achievements were fake, and both those feelings paled at the confusing mess that boiled up in his chest at the fact that it was Amamiya praising him.

“Now who’s flattering whom? Do I need to take an official confession?” Goro slipped into his detective persona to carry on the joke, as if it didn’t concern him. As if he didn’t care if it did. As if it wouldn’t ruin everything.

“I don’t think I’d survive the trial.”

Goro’s head whipped up, his extremities suddenly frozen as he felt the blood drain from his face. Amamiya had used a light tone, but he had that catlike smile on his face that always pulled the rug out from under Goro. It felt as if while Goro had been playing the game of chess disguised as checkers, Amamiya had been playing on additional boards, taking pieces Goro was completely unaware he had.

If he _knew_ , everything was fucked.

“Excuse me?” He kept his voice as calmly confused as possible. Feign ignorance. Gather information. Deflect.

Amamiya laughed.

Goro refused to swallow, keeping his expression mild.

“Your fangirls would kill me if I got to you before any of them!”

Amamiya left the counter for the sink and started washing up, still chuckling and blissfully unaware of the knots Goro’s insides were twisting themselves into.

He tried to calm himself down by imagining the ways in which he would end this torment. He knew how he’d do it. The plan had been set. But until it happened, he could still imagine taking his time. He could “miss” and watch as he bled out. Or he could make it more personal, slit his throat, his siren voice flowing out in a red wash. There’d be no fight left in him, it’d be easy to knock him to the ground, show him who won by clamping his hands around his neck and thighs around his waist. Goro could even pretend to be the hero, saving Amamiya from unjust incarceration, and he’d be so grateful, he’d wrap his arms around Goro, press their mouths together in a fit of passion before Goro buried a knife into his back. The look on his face would be... Well.

“I think it’s because I’m scared,” Amamiya’s voice rang out, flat and serious, especially compared to his earlier jests.

“What?”

“I think it’s because I’m scared. Of relationships.” The silence between his words was punctuated with the clatter of one plate against another. “Of love.”

Goro slowly came to realize that he was not, in fact, calm. He was certainly not calm enough to respond to a confession like _that_.

“I don’t trust the things I’ve been told about it anymore. Mom and Dad always told me that they love me, that they trust me.” More clatter came from the kitchen, and Amamiya increased his volume in response. “But, if they trusted me, they’d know that I didn’t do it. So why haven’t they called?”

Amamiya took a deep breath, then interrupted himself by running the faucet.

“They haven’t even texted,” he said more quietly once he turned the water off. “So, either they don’t trust that I’m telling the truth - that I tried to do what was right - or they don’t care. Either way, is that love?

“The guy who harrassed that woman, he was motivated by his attraction to her. So was that bastard Kamoshida. So was that small-town murderer from a few years back. If attraction can do that, is it right to feel it? To pursue it?

“And Haru. _Haru_. She still says her father loved her, deep down, even with all the things he allowed to happen. The things he _did_.”

Amamiya fell silent. Smooth jazz filled the hole he left, hollow in a way it had never sounded before. Goro understood.

People who love you wouldn’t leave you to fend for yourself, wouldn’t take you in just to cast you out, wouldn’t make you destroy yourself just to be useful. Would they?

“So, I started to wonder, what if love, like justice, is just a lie adults tell kids and each other to control them?”

Goro understood so well it hurt.

“That’s a bit cynical for the leader of the Phantom Thieves, isn’t it?” he asked. He deflected. He still couldn’t be discovered. He still couldn’t be real.

“We brainwash people because we don’t believe in the law. Your words, Akechi-kun.”

Justice was a lie. Love was a lie. The only truth was power. And Shido was powerful enough that, even if Goro did manage to bring him down… Well. He never had been an optimist.

“You have a point there,” Goro mumbled thoughtfully.

**Author's Note:**

> I would apologize for the potential overuse of in-text callbacks, but... Well.


End file.
